


Hungry (Hope You'll Feed Me)

by trashcangimmick



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy is a Dick But Maybe Not As Much of a Dick as You'd Think?, Depression, Dirty Talk, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Period-Typical Homophobia, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Verbal Humiliation, canon-divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 02:31:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19714489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick
Summary: Will is home alone on his sixteenth birthday. So he calls Billy Hargrove.





	Hungry (Hope You'll Feed Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LazyBaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/gifts).



> Listen. My first boyfriend was 19 and I was 15 and the age gaps of my next 3 relationships were even more gross so do not @ me. Sixteen isn't technically underage in the sate of Indiana? Shhh.

Will’s sixteenth birthday is a candle on a grocery-store cupcake and a kiss on the forehead before his mom leaves for work.

The house is empty. Lonely since Jonathan moved away to Indianapolis. He said he’d visit as often as he could. Will’s not sure that’s really true. But it’s OK. Jonathan should have his own life. He should be happy. 

Their mom always sounds so proud when she talks about Jonathan’s successful business as a wedding photographer. She talks about how sometimes he’ll even do freelance work for the newspaper. The same paper Nancy writes articles for. There are clippings on the fridge. Newsprint photographs. 

It makes Will’s chest ache, just a little.

Late March is still cold. Too cold to be riding a bike. There’s snow on the ground. But Jonathan took the car with him when he moved. Will can’t afford to buy his own. Anytime he talks about getting a job that’s more than a paper route, his mom gets nervous. 

He’s _fragile._ Still delicate all these years later. People aren’t entirely wrong when they say that. Will is sick a lot. He’s still much thinner than he should be. He’s pale, and he bruises easily, and he gets tired quicker than a teenaged boy should. 

Once, Troy said what other people were thinking. _You’re probably so skinny because you’re a faggot that’s got AIDS._

Sometimes, Will wishes the explanation was so simple. Sometimes, he even wishes he were dying in a way that was completely out of his hands. A disease isn’t suicide. It would make his mother sad, but not as sad as finding him in the bathtub with bloody wrists. 

All he really knows is that he dreams about shadows, and writhing slick things, about dark, cold, wet, decay. He wonders if maybe he’s sickly because part of him got left behind in that terrible place. He hasn’t felt whole in years. 

Lucas and Dustin are working on a science project today. Mike is doing something with his family. Hopper took them all out to dinner last night, so it’s not like they forgot about his birthday. People still care about him. Probably. It’s hard not to feel like a constant object of pity, more than a part of the group. But being invited out of guilt is slightly better than not being invited anywhere at all. If Will’s alone, the bad thoughts close in faster. He’s already alone too much. 

He walks to the kitchen after about an hour of not really watching TV, but sitting with the noise and drawing because he can’t stand the quiet. It’s a Saturday. The sun is starting to set, but it’s only five o’clock. He dials the number, telling himself that he just wants to see what Max is up to. Like he doesn’t already know she’s off somewhere with Jane. 

“Hargrove residence.” A bored voice drawls on the other end of the line. 

Will can imagine Billy standing there. Twisting the cord around his finger. Only being so formal because Susan is within earshot and would scold him for answering the way he usually does. _Who is it? What do you want?_

“Uh. Hi. It’s Will.”

Gum snaps. There’s a pause. 

“You wanna talk to the brat or something?”

“If she’s around. Um. My mom is working tonight. I’m all alone.”

“Gotcha.” 

There’s another pause. 

Will has called like this a few times since the New Year’s Eve party. The party at Max’s house that Billy was emphatically not supposed to be at. He was there anyway. Because he still lives there, despite being closer to twenty than he is nineteen. He says he’s saving up to move to California. But since Neil died of an abrupt stroke a year and a half ago, it really seems like Billy’s helping Susan pay the mortgage. 

A lot of things about Billy are inscrutable. The list could go on for pages and pages of lined notebook paper. It’s a rabbit hole, and sometimes sticking to facts is better. 

The facts are that Billy works at the record store, and part time delivering pizza. He sells weed. He goes to community college. He still drives his camaro around town, causing trouble. Still has plenty of girls pining after him. 

The facts are that Billy isn’t all that interested in girls, and neither is Will, and Will spent the early part of New Year’s day naked on Billy’s mattress. 

Everyone else was asleep, of course. Nobody realized. It’s all Will’s been able to think about for months. 

“I think Max is at the arcade or something.” Billy’s tone shifts, almost imperceptibly. It’s a little rougher. A little warmer. It makes Will shiver. “I don’t work tonight though. I could give you a ride if you need one.”

“A ride would be nice.” A little shock of heat lurches through Will at his own daring. 

“Cool. I’ll swing by in a bit.”

The line goes dead. 

Will heads immediately to the bathroom to get ready. 

***

Billy Hargrove is a walking wet dream. The sort of guy you’d see on the glossy paper cover of a romance novel. Shirtless on a cliff, staring into the sunset. 

Soft, curly blonde hair. An ever growing collection of tattoos circling his biceps and forearms. He has the darkest eyelashes Will’s ever seen. 

Billy stomps through the doorway, snow still clinging to his boots, in a pair of tight jeans and a leather jacket that can’t be warm enough for the weather. His smiles are always just a little bit threatening. Like a folded switchblade sticking out of someone’s pocket. Not yet dangerous. But the potential is always lurking. 

He kicks the door shut behind him. Strides right up to Will and pins him against the nearest wall. He kisses the way that people kiss in spy movies. Raw passion. Adrenaline. Will has to clutch at those broad shoulders, because his legs get a little weak. Billy tastes like cigarettes and minty gum. He’s all hard planes of rugged muscle. 

He’s so big. Half a head taller than Will. Limbs twice as thick. Strong where Will is scrawny. Hairy where Will is smooth. His mustache rubs against Will’s lip, where he’s convinced nothing will ever grow. Most of the time he hates how soft he is. Right now, though. The contrast is stimulating. 

Billy grabs Will’s ass and picks him up without missing a beat. Carries him down the hall, still kissing him. He tosses Will onto the bed so carelessly. Only stopping to toe off his boots and shrug out of his jacket. 

He licks along a vein in Will’s neck. Bites down high enough that people will see it. At least Will won’t have to explain it. He gets random bruises all the time, just from existing. The doctors called it an iron deficiency, but supplements didn’t fix it. Besides, he doubts anyone would ask about something that looks like a hickey. Who would be kissing him? Who would believe him if he told the truth?

Billy tugs off Will’s oversized shirt and his hand-me-down basketball shorts. Will didn’t bother with underwear. He’s completely exposed. All pale goosebumps in the cold air. 

“Goddamn, baby,” Billy groans. Wide hands grabbing Will’s bony hips. Squeezing just a little too hard. 

He sits back. Spits on his fingers, rubs them between Will’s ass cheeks. He makes a small noise when he feels that Will’s already a little slick. 

“Fuck. You finger yourself open for me?”

Will nods. Biting his lip. 

“Jesus. What a slut. So fucking greedy for it, huh?”

Billy shoves two fingers in. Making Will gasp. Billy finds the right spot in a heartbeat. Dragging against it. Will feels all hot and shuddery. Can’t help squirming. Rocking his hips because he wants more. Billy’s fingers are thick. Two of them is a bigger stretch than three of Will’s. It aches just a little. Will still needs more. He wants to be _full_. 

Will flops his hand out, reaching for the night stand, for the tub of vaseline he left there. He closes his hand around it. Holds it out to Billy. 

And Billy grins at him. Even sharper than before. He smiles the way a hungry dog would. Bears his teeth with pure aggressive intent. 

“Oh yeah?” He pauses. Knuckles resting against Will’s hole. “Eager much?”

He takes the vaseline, though. Scoops a little out. Manages to get three fingers in. Will moans. High pitched. Like a girl. He’d be embarrassed but Billy seems to enjoy it if his heavy breathing is anything to go by. 

“Feel good, baby? You like this, huh? Riding my fingers like a little whore. Maybe I should make you come like this.”

_“No.”_ Will barely whispers. “Want you to—want you to fuck me…”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m getting my dick wet either way. But maybe I wanna fuck you when you’re all tender and oversensitive. Bet you’d scream.”

Will’s heart thumps in his throat. Billy always makes him feel short of breath. Dizzy. Overwhelmed. Everywhere their skin touches is like two wires sparking. There’s nothing else like it. 

It’s not like the girl Will kissed at the Snow Ball in the eighth grade. Which was just a press of lips. Small hands on his waist as they danced. No kinetic energy. No reaction. 

It’s a little bit like the way he used to feel when he’d sit close enough to Mike Wheeler for their thighs to occasionally touch. That made him warm for reasons he didn’t quite understand at the time. 

Billy makes him short circuit. 

He slips another finger in. Four of them is a lot. Will’s spread open. Sloppy with the greasy vaseline. There will be stains on the sheets. He’ll have to wash them tonight. 

_“Billy.”_ It’s a plea, and a prayer, and a cry for help, all in the same shaky breath. 

“Yeah, baby. Fuck.”

Billy withdraws his fingers and Will feels empty. Horrible. It’s like being lonely, but it’s physical. He whimpers. Tries to just focus on breathing. 

A belt buckle jungles. Billy strips off his shirt. His pants. His tight black briefs. 

His cock is thick as the rest of him. Much bigger than Will’s. There’s plenty of hair on his balls, while Will just has a barely-there dusting. Billy’s uncut. Sometimes, Will gets lost in the feedback loop. The velvety texture of his foreskin. The way it slips over the shiny pink head.

Will wants to touch it. But Billy’s sitting back on his heels, out of reach. He lifts Will up a little. Pulling him halfway onto his lap. He holds onto Will’s skinny thigh with his dry hand as he lines up and sinks in. They both groan. Because Billy is big. Will occupies very little area in the world, so the space inside him is narrow. 

“Goddamn.” Billy all but growls. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”

He starts to move. Rocking into Will just right. Holding him in place with a hand at the base of his spine. Will’s back is arched a little too much. He feels like a rag doll. 

Billy rolls his hips like a wave. It’s not very fast. It’s deep, and all encompassing, and more than enough to drown in. Will clutches at the sheets. He’s sweating now. Hot from the inside out. 

Sometimes, he fancies this whole thing slightly incestuous. They have the same name. In one of his notebooks that nobody will ever read, he’s started writing _A Tale Of Two Williams. One was the sun. One was the moon._ Billy’s skin is a soft golden color, even in the winter. Will is always snowy. Never tans. Only burns. In moments like this, he’s just reflecting Billy’s energy. Billy fills him up and makes him feel alive when they touch. 

Billy shifts. Pushing Will up the bed. Billy’s weight settles on top of him. Their bodies roll together. Faster. Harder. The rusty springs underneath them creak as Billy fucks into him. It’s still that same undulating motion. The one that drags across the spot inside him that makes everything melt with a strange urgency. 

“You love this,” Billy grunts. “Love getting fucked in the ass, don’t you faggot?”

Will flushes. The word still stings. But not the same way as usual. It doesn’t feel dangerous, like when someone snarls and shoves him against a locker. From Billy, it’s almost playful. Billy’s the one inside him. He’s a faggot too.

“Bet you’ve been jerking off to the idea of it for weeks. Working yourself up until you finally broke down and called me. Even the real desperate bitches don’t try to call my house when they wanna get railed. You’re something else.”

Will can’t do anything but gasp. Wrap his legs around Billy’s waist. Hold on for dear life. 

“Bet you’d bend over for anyone that gave you a second glance, huh?”

“No.” Will mumbles. 

“No?” Billy huffs out a laugh. “You’re just a horny slut for me?”

It seems like a lot to admit. Maybe he’s already admitted it. Billy drives into him even harder. Skin slapping together. Will moans on every exhale. Much too loud. He can’t help it. 

“That’s right, baby. You’re my little fuck toy, huh?”

It shouldn’t sound like an endearment. From Billy’s lips, it does. 

Maybe Will is just starving for anything that resembles affection. Looking for an emotional connection in all the wrong places. He’s always been that way. Maybe it would be a pathology, the constant desire for people who don’t want him back. But nobody wants him. So it doesn’t matter. An infatuation with Billy Hargrove is only different because Billy will fuck him sometimes, and that’s more than anyone else wants to do. Will’s just grateful for the skin to skin contact. 

Billy’s pounding him so hard, Will’s bouncing on the mattress a little. It hurts. But not in the bad way. It hurts in the way that make his skin feel tight and tingly. It hurts like rubbing his cock after he’s just come. It hurts like pinching his nipples, or holding his breath until he’s about to pass out, and losing himself in the blend of uncomfortable pleasure. 

“Take it, bitch.” Billy groans against Will’s neck. “You’re such a fucking whore.”

When Billy calls him a bitch, it makes Will shudder and tense. He’s so close. His cock is rubbing against Billy’s naked stomach. His washboard abs. Slick with sweat, and maybe Will’s so turned on he’s dribbling a little bit. 

“C’mon, faggot.” Billy’s voice is getting even rougher. Strained. “I know you can finish like this. You’re coming on my dick or not at all.”

And that’s enough to push Will over the edge. His hips jerk. He squeezes down around Billy as his cock twitches and he splatters jizz between them. Billy _roars_ like a wild animal. Shoves into Will as deep as he can get. A few more harsh thrusts. Then he goes still. Panting. 

He pulls out and flops down on the bed next to Will. 

“Jesus H. Christ.” He chuckles. He pats Will on the thigh. Like Will’s a pet that’s just done something endearing. “Grab my cigarettes. I’ll give you one.”

Will takes a moment. Stands on shaky legs. Stumbles a little when he grabs Billy’s jacket off the floor. The cigarettes and lighter are in the right pocket, as always. He brings the whole pack over. Billy will want more than one. 

Billy lights up. Takes a drag before handing the cigarette over to Will, then lighting the second one for himself. 

Will never asks for one. If he does, Billy will gripe about how it’s a waste. How Will’s a pussy who doesn’t really inhale. When he offers one, though, there’s no teasing. Will is allowed to just let his mouth fill with smoke and feel the pleasant buzzing. 

“It’s my birthday.” Will says as he blows out a little cloud of smoke. He knows Billy won’t care. He just wants to say it. 

“Oh yeah? What’s that make you… sweet sixteen?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, I’ve got some weed in my car. If you wanna get stoned, it’s on me.”

“Sure.”

***

Will wakes up with a warm body pressed against his back. For a moment, he slips in time. He’s climbed into Jonathan’s bed after a nightmare. Just needs to be close to someone to make sure he’s still real. 

It’s not Jonathan. 

Billy stirs. Draping an arm around Will’s waist. Smoothing over his skin. Hand wandering up his chest to tweak one of his nipples. Will shudders. Billy starts kissing the back of his neck. 

They’re curled under the covers. It’s pitch black outside the windows. The neon red numbers glowing on the nightstand say it’s nine o’clock. So they didn’t pass out for too long. There’s time before Will’s mom gets home. 

Will still feels a little high and dreamy. It’s nice. 

Billy moves even closer. Will can feel the erection, brushing against his thighs. He’s probably still slick inside. Vaseline doesn’t dry out. And Billy must have the same thought. He shifts. Drags a finger across Will’s hole. It’s tender. Sore. But Will wants it. 

“Please,” he says, soft in the comfort of the dark. Usually, the dark is scary. He keeps the lights on all night. With Billy though… he feels safe. 

Billy is strong. Billy is mean. Billy might have a fighting chance against a monster. Most of all, having Billy here means he’s not alone. If Will has to die, if the other world finally claims him, he just doesn’t want to be alone right before he goes. 

“Jesus,” Billy murmurs. “Can’t believe you’re still gagging for it.”

Will feels the blunt press of Billy’s cock. The burn as it slides into him. He’s wet enough that it doesn’t tear anything. It still stings. He curls in on himself a little. Turns his face into the pillow. At least Billy’s gentle. He keeps them on their sides, spooning, while he thrusts shallow and slow. He keeps an arm wrapped around Will. Hugging him. 

“Good boy. Such a good boy for me. Just relax, baby.”

It reminds Will of the first time. When they were both drunk, but Billy was so careful. 

He didn’t ask if Will had ever done it before. He was gentle. Took forever getting Will ready. Went so slow. Made it good. 

Will’s heard girls tell horror stories about their first time. He’s glad his wasn’t like that. Even if it’s not exactly the same. He still feels lucky. 

Billy grabs Will’s leg, hooks it over his own thigh, spreading him wider. It changes the angle. Puts more pressure on the sweet spot. Will moans. Clutches at the arm that’s still wrapped around him. Billy speeds up just a little. 

“Feel so good, Sweetheart. So warm on the inside. All buttery smooth. You’re fucking perfect.”

Will feels the tension coiling in itself. He’s so keyed up. There’s a feeling rising in his chest that he doesn’t want to contemplate. 

It makes him uncomfortable when Billy’s nice. It’s much worse than the insults. Because doesn’t understand it. He knows it must be a trick, but can’t figure out exactly how it works. Can’t see the bear trap he’s about to step on. 

Billy’s arm shifts downward. He wraps his hand around Will’s cock. Strokes it in time with his unhurried thrusts. It’s too much. Water boiling over the rim of a pot in a scalding cascade. Will falls apart. Adding a new mess to his sheets. He’s light-headed. Breathless. Billy holds him tighter. Grinds into him, barely pulling out. It’s so much. Will’s still spasming, riding the aftershocks. Billy feels bigger than he was a minute ago. He’s rubbing Will raw. Overloading nerves that have already felt too much. 

It’s a relief when Billy groans and stops moving. Will lets out the sigh he was holding in. 

He could fall asleep again. Sticky and sore. Billy’s dick gets soft and slips out of him. They’re still spooning. Billy’s large frame wrapped around him. 

Maybe that’s why Will says something stupid. Why he talks so quietly, into the void of his bedroom. Not making eye contact. It doesn’t feel like he’s awake. It doesn’t feel like he’s asleep. It doesn’t feel like he actually exists. 

“Do you think maybe… you’d wanna come over more often? My mom’s gone a lot.”

“What makes you think I don’t have better shit to do?” 

The response isn’t surprising. It twists Will’s stomach because he’s disappointed in himself, more than anything. He knows better. He should know better. 

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”

“Jesus, kid. I was messing with you.” Billy laughs a little. Taps one of Will’s ass cheeks. “I’d fuck this ass any time.”

“OK. Cool.”

Billy cups Will’s chin. Tilts his head enough to kiss him. It’s lazy now. Just barely-there brushes of lips.

The tension in Will’s chest eases just a little. It’s not a happily ever by any means. _It was the best of times. It was the worst of times._ Maybe he can find comfort somewhere in the middle. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Desire' by Meg Myers. Is this ship called Willy. Is it. Pretty please?


End file.
